Lost
by Flash Foreward
Summary: Everyday after work he would come home and perform this ceremony, letting the images from the TV wash over him was the best way he had found to purge his mind of the things he saw so often.GregSofia, Warning: Character Death


**A/N:** My first Greg/Sofia fic. Warning: Character death. Please read and review.

**Disclaimer:** It is not mine.

**Lost**

"_He's lost in the woods. We all are."  
__-Firefly-_

Greg leaned his head against the window and gazed down at the cars moving alone the road. The lights that illuminated the city in the nighttime were slowly being switched off as the sun made its morning clime into the blue expanse of the sky. Greg breathed out a long sigh and turned away from the window. He plopped down on his couch, turned on the TV, and lazily flipped through all of the terrible daytime television.

Over and over he passed the Soap Operas, the Talk Shows, and the Infomercials, but he didn't stop. From one channel to the next, back to the beginning, and over again the cycle went. He wasn't really seeing any of the shows, and he wasn't looking for anything in particular, but still he flipped through the channels.

Slowly, the monotony of his chosen task began to lull him to sleep. He had to struggle more and more to keep his eyes open, until he finally let them fall closed. The remote slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor, but he no longer stirred. He had slipped into sleep, oblivious even to the infomercial emanating quietly from his television.

This was his ritual now. Everyday after work he would come home and perform this ceremony, letting the images from the TV wash over him was the best way he had found to purge his mind of the things he saw so often. Terrible murders and rapes were pushed from his mind with the tap of a button. With this ritual, he forgot about what people could do to each other, what they did do to each other. Ridding his mind of these images was the only way he could sleep, but it was also only the beginning. To stay asleep, he had to find something to focus on, something happy.

He had chosen the same image for awhile now, and he had no intention of ever changing it. He let this image, her smiling face, float in the darkness of his sleep. The memory of her voice kept his living nightmare from invading his dreams, and a smile grew on his face while he slept.

"Sofia," he whispered softly. His lips curled further into their smile as he said it, and his body began to relax. His muscles loosened, letting his arm slip casually down to hang over the couches edge and his head dropped off of the armrest and fell to his chest.

The phone rang and the young man's eyes flew open. He glanced at his watch and sighed, it had only been a few short hours since Catherine had suggested he go home, not nearly a long enough rest. He lifted the phone and held it to his ear.

"Sanders," he said.

"Hey, Greggo," Catherine's voice said. "I found something you may want to see."

"Do you need me?" Greg asked.

"What?"

"To solve the case. Do you need me?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then I don't think I'm gonna come in," he interrupted. A short silence followed, and he could almost hear Catherine's concern for him before she even spoke.

"Greg, are you all right?" she inquired.

"Yeah, I'm just tired," he replied.

"Is that it?" He knew she didn't believe him, it was in her voice, but he kept lying anyway.

"Yeah, that's it."

He waited until she had hung up and the dial tone began to play in his ear before he set the phone back in its cradle. He grabbed the remote from where it had landed and began to flip through the channels again. It took him even longer to drift off to sleep this time, and after his eyes fell closed he found it even harder to stay asleep.

Instead of her smiling face, images of her pale body laid out on an autopsy table invaded his mind. Doc Robbins pointing to the wounds adorning her once beautiful skin played out for a second time in his dreams. He quickly opened his eyes and sat up, trying to make the memories disappear. He returned to changing channels, but it was no use. The task no longer helped. He turned the TV off and got up, returning to the window to gaze down at the busy city below, hoping that it would clear his mind.

.-.-.-.-.-.

They solved the case, put her killer behind bars, but it didn't change anything. Greg still couldn't really sleep. Everyone at the lab could tell, but none of them said anything. When the day of the funeral arrived, the worry lined faces followed his actions with their eyes.

He stood with Catherin and Warrick as the bagpipers played, but he did not cry. He watched as everyone said their goodbyes, but he did not cry. He listened to the Pastor read out her eulogy, but he did not cry. He waited until it was all over and the other mourners began to filter to their cars and leave, and that was when he moved to stand at the edge of the grave. He looked down into it, gazing at the dirt and the coffin, and he felt the tears finally push out from behind his eyes.

"I love you," he said, his voice choked and quiet.

And as he stood there, staring at her coffin, he felt a hand fall gently on his should, and then another took his hand, and still another found his other shoulder, and another his other hand, and one more rested on his back, below his neck. He turned his head, straining his neck to look from face to face. From Catherine to Warrick, from Nick to Sara, and then to Grissom. They did not look at him, their eyes were on the grave, but still he felt their love wash over him. He returned his gaze to the grave, and finally his mind cleared.


End file.
